


Hear The Silence

by inkcharm



Series: Wolf Pack [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Betrayal, Blood Mage(s) - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Circle Tower, Circle of Magi, Disabled Character, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, Grey Wardens, Multi, Muteness, Underage Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4595985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkcharm/pseuds/inkcharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leesya Surana finds it's difficult to be heard when you're not just an elf and a mage, but also mute. Snippets of her life on the road while she has plenty to deal with - a Blight, friendships, love, betrayal, battles, demons, kings, dwarves, elves, werewolves, humans, and all that is just the beginning of a path to even greater events. Salty commentary on canon events in most installments, plus "off-screen events" explored. Part 1 of the "Wolf Pack" series, that will feature such fun things as Calling Cure and Slave Rebellion happening in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hear The Silence

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies if the tags are misleading. Cullen's crush on Surana is canonical, yet very one-sided in this case. She's my canon Surana, and will romance Zevran. Other tags will be added as it becomes necessary. 
> 
> Beware of snark, general levels of being utterly unimpressed with everyone's bs, and some cussing. My Surana is only dignified because no one hears what she really thinks.
> 
> Not all snippets of this will be retellings of canon events. There'll be plenty of "off screen" scenes happening in preparation for future, post-canon events.
> 
> All of this is dedicated to [MissjuliaMiriam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MissjuliaMiriam), who is my favorite person and lets me ramble about my Surana way too much. Smooches!

There was no way for any of this to turn out well.

 

Oh, certainly, the phylactery shattered on the ground with a very satisfying sound. Freedom had surely never sounded so frail, though, and by the way Jowan and Lily were hugging one another, Leesya Surana was quite sure she was the only person in the room even mildly concerned by the fact that they had yet to actually leave the basement, and in the case of the lovebirds, the tower itself. Not an impossible feat, as a human mage called Anders had proven several times over – a legend among some apprentices, a cautionary tale among others. Still, not the easiest undertaking, and Leesya had no intention of following them. Her phyactery was already on the way to Denerim, out of reach, and the templars would catch up to her in no time.

 

Gifted and a quick learner she might be, a combination that had granted her the personal attention of the First Enchanter himself, but equipped for a life on the run and on the road she was not. At least in the Circle, she was well aware of all dangers to her well-being and knew how to handle them. Let Cullen consider her shy and docile, let Irving consider her brilliant, let Gregoir consider her unusually well behaved. She had no need for power, was not afraid enough of anything to turn to demons, but more importantly, she was just far enough removed to observe her situation from the outside in.

 

Shy and docile… the fact was that she was mute, had been for as long as she could remember. Cullen might have failed to notice that, which in turn served her well. His stammering and fumbling had her on edge, but as long as she could keep her face composed and nod politely at him, he'd flush and seem content. Being able to talk back would just get her in trouble. It was her luck, really, that the thoughts forking through her mind like wicked tongues of lightning had no fast, easily comprehensible way of slipping out to sting people around her.

 

Even the Grey Warden had taken her silence for polite boredom, and with her note book tucked deep into her pocket, she hadn't bothered to literally spell the hard facts out for him, just rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking. He seemed well-meaning, at least, and surprisingly appreciative of mages and elves – or well, at least not dismissive.

 

Her silence had isolated her. Enough elves in the alienage had lost their tongues to humans, or their willingness to talk to trauma, that she'd grown up talking with her hands from an early age. The Circle's books had taught her that she was far from the only one – to sign with one's hands was a way to communicate for the dwarven Silent Sisters, for those born without voice or hearing, and for slaves and servants not able or willing to produce sound.

 

Most apprentices, as it turned out, were too young or scared or busy to bother learning her language, and few had the patience to wait out written communication. The templars had dragged her here shortly after her sixth nameday, a number she well remembered as she had set rather accidental fire to the stale, dry pastry that'd been her treat, and she'd been isolated ever since. It gave her time for academics, and she'd applied herself to those with a passion over the years. She was an elf and a mage, less than a person in two different ways, but she knew her only chance in life was to at least be good at what the world loathed and feared her for, not to have power over others, but over herself.

 

The flames had engulfed the entire table eventually.

 

Jowan had been her only friend these past few years. The only one who didn't think her daft for not answering with words, the only one who didn't call her teacher's pet for being mentored by the First Enchanter, and the only one who didn't ridicule or pity her for attracting a templar's fancy when she started looking less like a child. All apprentices knew how dangerous a line that was to walk, the risk of attracting ire if you dared rejection, the risk of attracting worse if you didn't. Jowan, at least, knew that Leesya could handle herself well enough. She had an impassive face and cold, grey eyes, made haunting by the swirls of a tattoo that had seemed a good idea at the time – in that short phase when she'd tried to bond with some other elves over the Dalish. These days she scoffed over her fourteen years old self, but the tattoo stayed with her, and so did the fond memory of almost making friends by indulging their whims. It looked well, at least.

 

Her one single friend now looked towards his own future, and Leesya felt almost guilty for nearly selling him out to First Enchanter Irving.

 

So that made her sound somewhat like a bad person, but the thing was that unlike Jowan, she was well aware that he was handing her a noose by begging her help. Whatever his plan entailed after destroying the phylactery, it certainly didn't account for her safety. It would be easy enough to link her to all of this. She was Jowan's only friend as much as he was hers, she'd acquired the rod of fire, she'd likely stood out walking down towards the basement in her freshly gained and ill-fitting new mage robes.

 

It had taken her ten years to be dragged to her Harrowing, to be thrown to wolves that looked like mouses, and she'd survived the whole ordeal at a remarkably young age. There was simply no way no one had paid her attention on the way down.

 

Still. She'd stood before First Enchanter Irving, ready to tell him of Jowan's affair and plan to escape the tower with Lily, and Leesya knows herself well enough to admit that she'd have felt no guilt over whatever punishment the two might have suffered, given that Jowan was so very willing to involve her in a plan that could end with a brand upon her own forehead, just because he was in love. Except… except Irving had confirmed that Jowan was to be made tranquil on account of eye witness testimony.

 

And that was simply impossible. Jowan wasn't a bad mage. She'd left him behind academically and he had the unfortunate tendency to try and measure himself against her instead of looking at himself and all he'd accomplished – but surely he'd never feel the need to gain power through such drastic measures.

 

And Leesya had looked into Irving's eyes, so old and deceptively gentle, so easy to confide in, and she'd known that she couldn't tell on Jowan. Because he'd told her he wasn't a blood mage, and she believed him over a man who had to appease the Chantry first and foremost. Irving was a good teacher, and from him she'd learned what cunning could look like. She had no doubt that if he suspected blood magic and had kept tabs on Jowan, he might be aware of the love affair anyway. And saving her own skin wasn't worth watching another apprentice she knew be hollowed out through a brand on the forehead. The people in charge of their fates were, quite frankly, assholes.

 

She tried to hold onto that thought when the noose yanked tight around her throat, for upon exiting the cold bowels of the tower, they were awaited. Irving's disappointment was nothing compared to anatomically incorrect dead weight her stomach had become in an attempt to drag her to her knees. For ten years she'd carefully learned to walk the line, to be silent and careful and controlled, and know the existence she'd worked for unraveled in front of her own eyes.

 

Caught red-handed.

 

And then it was a blur, the next thing Surana knew was that for some reason her hands really were red, and…

 

There was blood all over the floor, and the dead weight in her stomach slammed into her throat, tightened her airways and wanted to spill force. She balled her slick hands into fists and breathed out through her nose, pale grey eyes hard like an oncoming storm, and let words she couldn't speak sit on the tip of her tongue like familiar poison. By the time she rose to her feet, she'd swallowed, steeled herself, and didn't flinch when the horror over Jowan's actions turned into anger at her.

 

They were right after all. She'd aided a blood mage. Even if he'd been a friend. Even if she'd decided to place his wellbeing over her own. He'd still betrayed her. Had still only tried to flee with Lily in tow.

 

Leesya wondered if her survival with her mind intact had simply been dismissed by Jowan, or just never entered his mind. And the realization that she shouldn't have trusted the one person who made the effort to be her friend was a bitter pill to swallow. She wanted to howl with the wolf pack sitting at the back of her throat, but couldn't.

 

No one listened to her silence as her fate was decided literally above her head, craned neck to follow the conversation and all.

 

No, really. Everyone in charge was an asshole, there was no kinder way to put it at this point, but at least Duncan didn't let Gregoir have the satisfaction of putting a mage through the Rite of Tranquility today. Leesya was conscripted into the Grey Wardens without getting a proverbial say in the matter, and tried to act as though being called a danger to all of them didn't affect her.

 

It made her silence about the stolen staff on her back more satisfying, admittedly. After all, it looked as if Irving had known so much already, had let Jowan and Lily attempt their escape only to catch them. To punish the Chantry girl, not just the mage, Leesya realized, and felt foolish for not seeing that sooner in his shrewd eyes. His willingness to play political games, and knock over a few pawns in an attempt to sting the masters holding all mages' leashes, including his own.

 

And so against her will, she left the Circle. She'd been trapped in the alienage against her will, too, and survived. She'd been dragged to the Circle against her will, too, and survived. And now she was dragged towards Ostagar, towards an uncertain future as a Warden.

 

And come what may, Leesya Surana would survive that as well.


End file.
